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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28163058">The You I Remember</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/nofLEXzone/pseuds/nofLEXzone'>nofLEXzone</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Sex, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Jealousy, M/M, Oral Sex, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Slow Burn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 18:35:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>18,456</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28163058</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/nofLEXzone/pseuds/nofLEXzone</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“‘Happiness is in front of you,’” Steve reads. Bucky scoffs at the fortune, stealing the actual cookie to eat because he knows Steve isn’t going to.</p><p>“That could mean anything,” Bucky says around a mouthful of cookie. “Not much of a fortune, if you ask me.” He pushes himself off the couch and disappears into the kitchen. When he returns, he has two pieces of pie.</p><p>“Be honest now,” Bucky says, extending a plate to Steve. “I’ll only cry a little if you tell me it’s bad.”</p><p>Steve laughs and scoops up a big chunk and pops it in his mouth.</p><p>“Well?” Bucky’s impatience makes Steve grin.</p><p>“Damn,” Steve says. “This is one of the best pies I’ve ever had.” He isn’t lying but he suspects he would have anyway if it meant he could see Bucky smile like that.</p><p>“You’re lying,” Bucky says with a laugh, but Steve insists. He takes another huge bite, getting lost in the sweetness of it. Steve watches Bucky smile to himself, notices the crinkles that form by his eyes and the light that seems to radiate from him, and Steve realizes he disagrees with Bucky’s earlier skepticism. His fortune is perfect.</p><p>                                     ------------<br/>Steve convinces Bucky to move in with him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>201</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The You I Remember</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I needed what the MCU wouldn't give us.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Steve is nervous. The clock’s methodic ticking is biting his ears as he watches Tony frown. Conversations with Tony were usually dramatic, filled with raised voices and lots of eye rolls. Tony doesn’t take many people seriously, least of all himself. This was different, and Steve could tell from the way the air seemed to hang still around him. It was almost as if the air was also waiting for Tony’s answer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know, Steve,” Tony finally says. His eyes meet Steve’s, but they’re hard to read. “It’s a risk. It’s more than a risk. It’s reckless.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Steve says reluctantly. “But I could keep an eye on him. The Stark Tower is the safest place for him to be. You said that. Remember?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have two doctorates, Steven. Of course I </span>
  <em>
    <span>remember</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Tony narrows his eyes, obviously frustrated that Steve was not only tossing his words back at him but condescending him while he did it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That was before I knew his killer brain could be turned back on by a few words,” Tony says. “One Russian lullaby,” he snaps his fingers, “and he is the Soviet’s attack dog again.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now it’s Steve’s turn to narrow his eyes. Tony clears his throat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Steve I just don’t think–”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You want all the avengers to stay together,” Steve says. He watches Tony start to object but cuts him off. “I know Bucky isn’t an avenger, but I am, and he needs me, Tony. He’s my best friend. I need to help him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The words settle between them. Steve blinks, almost shocked that he said them. He doesn’t regret it, especially after Tony’s long sigh.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can’t play the best friend card, Rogers.” Tony fights a grin, and Steve knows he’s got him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We fought together,” Steve starts, and Tony scoffs, exaggerating his eye roll.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah. Brothers in arms, land of the free, home of the scientifically altered.” Tony sips his coffee and releases the tension in his shoulders. “Ok, fine. Barnes can move in, but I’m not personalizing his room. He can take a spare guest room, and he has to do his own laundry.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You don’t even do your own laundry,” Steve says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tony walks away, flipping Steve off, not seeing Steve’s huge smile. Steve thinks it may split his face in half. Bucky’s going to be moving in. Bucky’s going to be living with Steve. This is the most settled Steve has felt since he thawed. He ignores the tug in his chest and heads to his room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely not.” Bucky stands up shaking his head, and immediately scans for his exits. Ready to escape. They’re standing in the middle of Bucky’s current dilapidated apartment. The walls are littered with cracks and holes, and Steve can hear the constant dripping of the kitchen faucet. Steve stands up too, hoping to calm Bucky. He mentally pats himself on the back for not doing this in a public place, not that Bucky gets out much anymore.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Buck, Tony made you a room. You can move in, rent free, you can come and go as you please,” Steve says, trying to reason with him. Bucky’s eyes are still jumping from his front door to his back door, desperate to leave even though it’s his place. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His fight and flight instincts have always been stronger than others, a big reason why he joined the army when he was young. He knew if he could train himself, he could channel that fight instinct into real bravery. After Hydra’s tampering, those instincts became ten times stronger than ever before, and therefore ten times more dangerous. That’s why his flight instinct became less about protecting himself and more about protecting others. He was haunted by how much damage he could do– how much he’d already done.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve holds his hands out like he’s calming a skittish animal. For a moment he wishes Bucky would grab them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Steve,” Bucky says. The tone drags Steve back to Brooklyn. It’s the tone Bucky used when Steve first mentioned wanting to enlist. Notes of disapproval laced with drops of sadness. “You know why I can’t do that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know why you </span>
  <em>
    <span>think</span>
  </em>
  <span> you can’t.” Steve watches Bucky’s face contort in frustration.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not moving into that playboy palace just so Tony can keep an eye on me. I don’t need a babysitter, Steve. I’m not part of the accords,” Bucky says angrily.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It isn’t a punishment, Buck. You would be a tenant, not a prisoner.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Until Tony changes his mind, and suddenly I’m grounded. I mean why even invite me in? Is this one of those ‘keep your friends close enemies closer’ deals?” Bucky’s eyes are hardened. Steve doesn’t blame him. Being in a physical and a mental cage for years will do that to a person.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It wasn’t his idea, Bucky,” Steve says desperately. Bucky’s eyes mirror his confusion. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It was yours?” He tilts his head, considering, like the thought had never occurred to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bucky, I understand why you don’t trust him,” Steve says softly. The tone and the words seem to ease him a little more. “But can you trust me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s not fair. You know I trust you.” Bucky drops into a chair with a sigh. Steve can read the thoughts that hang in the silence. He knows that it isn’t Steve that Bucky doesn’t trust. Bucky doesn’t trust himself, but Steve is desperate to change that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sits across from Bucky and thinks about the last time Bucky felt comfortable in a house– comfortable enough to sleep with his back facing the doorway or without knives stashed in every room. He probably hasn’t felt that peace since Brooklyn. It’s what he deserves, and if there's a chance Steve can give it to him, he won’t stop until he does.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can leave whenever I want?” Bucky asks. Steve nods.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The silence is becoming unbearable so Steve adds, “Please, Buck. For old time’s sake?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This gets a smirk from Bucky, and Steve knows he is imagining the rundown, asbestos filled apartment they shared as kids. The paint was as thin as the walls, and heat in the winter was as nonexistent as their money. But it wasn’t the walls that made it a home. It was that they had each other.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I am not sleeping on the floor again,” Bucky finally says. Steve laughs and stands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Deal.” Steve holds his hand out, offers his best friend the faux casualness of a gentleman’s agreement. He hopes this handshake can hide the sound of his racing heart. When Bucky takes his hand, Steve holds his breath and smiles. It’s no big deal. Just helping out a friend.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The truth, however, is that Steve is excited. For the first time in almost a century, Steve is going to have Bucky back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve expected Bucky to be a light packer. Even before the army, Bucky was not a souvenir saver. If it wasn’t necessary for his survival, it didn’t earn the right to take up space. Steve was the opposite, especially growing up as poor as he did. If he ever got something that didn’t fall under necessity, he cherished it like a dying breath. Steve collected and kept anything that could add value to his life, movie stubs, pictures, carnival tickets. Bucky teased him endlessly for it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What do you need all that junk for anyway, Rogers? </span>
  </em>
  <span>He would ask him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Memories are free forever, Bucky. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Steve would insist.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So Steve was anticipating Bucky’s arrival, but when Bucky showed up with literally one bag, Steve faltered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is there more?” Steve asks as he looks Bucky up and down. Bucky has one tattered gym back slung over his left shoulder. It doesn’t look full.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“More of what?” Bucky asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of your stuff,” Steve says slowly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t have anything else,” Bucky deadpans, and Steve immediately feels like an idiot.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve had gotten used to living in Stark Tower. What Tony lacks in humility he makes up for as a well prepared landlord. There is no such thing as “shortage” at Stark Tower. This was something Steve found astonishing the first few months he lived there. Tony doesn’t wear clothes even remotely similar to Steve, nor does he ask for updates on his wardrobe, yet there would always be new tshirts when he needed them. Late night snacks never ran the pantry dry. Steve never even had to make a shopping list, and Steve never even seemed to notice food being replaced. It just was.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It isn’t until now that he has to remind himself that Bucky has never lived like that. Bucky is still used to eating half as much, so they can stretch an extra week before going to the store. He is used to being on the run, not having a pantry at all let alone one he needs to stock. The clothes he manages to find in hiding are the ones he owns. There has been no such thing as “extra” in Bucky’s life.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay. Let me show you to your room then!” Steve steps aside so Bucky can enter the floor. When Tony agreed to let Bucky move in, he mentioned a spare guest room. Because Tony is Tony, there are several spare guest rooms spread out amongst all twenty floors of Stark Tower.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve decided Bucky would move into the spare guest room on his floor. There were technically six unoccupied guest bedrooms on other floors, but Steve promised Tony he would look after Bucky. It just made sense. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s practical</span>
  </em>
  <span> Steve had insisted to himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The floor stretches far and consists of Steve’s room, a kitchen, a dining and living room, a main bathroom, the guest bedroom, and a guest bathroom. Bucky’s old apartment could fit in the living room, a fact Steve is sure Bucky is recognizing as they trek down the hall.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So we would share the kitchen and living room, but you have your own room and bathroom,” Steve says. Bucky drops his bag in the room and whistles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And you think this place is better than mine?” Bucky asks jokingly as he looks around at the crisp expensive stylings of Tony Stark. Deep navy blue curtains hang in front of what is surely bulletproof glass. Bone white linens cover the bed. A dark chrome lamp sits atop a sleek futuristic bedside table. It is very modern, very robotic, very Tony. Bucky hates it. He wishes there was a single piece of wood furniture or a single sign of imperfection. His metal fist clenches knowing he will probably be the most flawed thing about this place. It’s an ugly reminder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can change it up. Give ‘er a touch of Barnes.” Steve’s voice pulls Bucky out of his head. Steve leans against the door jam and watches Bucky smirk. Steve catches himself thinking, not for the first time that day, how glad he is that Bucky is there.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to have to,” Bucky says nodding. Steve explains a little more about the tower’s layout as Bucky unpacks his bag.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The first five floors are dedicated Stark work spaces,” Steve says as Bucky takes out and refolds two long sleeve shirts. When Bucky raises his eyebrows Steve adds,</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know, man. Tony uses them for building his suits and gadgets. Then floors six and seven are offices. Tony rarely uses them, but as he put it, ‘Grown ups need meeting rooms, Steven.’” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky smirks at Steve’s impression and starts looking in drawers. The clothes he brought easily fit in two of the drawers. He looks at the other six that lay empty.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Floors eight through thirteen are actually for us.” Steve stops himself before he can say Avengers. He doesn’t want to remind Bucky that, according to society’s perception, he is an outsider.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who else lives here?” Bucky asks casually. Steve can tell he is faking his casual tone. Perhaps someone who does not know Bucky the way Steve does wouldn’t notice, but Steve can sense his trapped animal instincts peeking through. He figures Bucky already knows the answer, or he wouldn't have come. Steve answers anyway.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Clint and Natasha live here most of the year. Bruce is around occasionally, but more often than not he’s at his lab. Tony leaves a floor for Thor, but that’s for when he’s actually here, and then Tony is here all the time, usually with Pepper.” Steve watches Bucky process that information and store it in his brain like it’s a filing cabinet. Serum or no serum, Bucky has learned how to catalog every bit of information he learns in order to prioritize what he needs for survival. The occupants of his new residency no doubt occupy a top spot on Bucky Barnes’ list of </span>
  <em>
    <span>things to remember– in case</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And the rest of the floors?” Bucky asks with genuine curiosity. Steve thinks he can see Bucky’s hesitation begin to melt away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They range from gyms, to a movie theater, to Tony’s hobby of the week. Things are ever changing here at Stark Tower.” Steve jokes. “Except our floor. Tony won’t change our floor unless we ask him to.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Twenty floors and only seven people, but we’re on the same floor.” Bucky leaves the question unsaid. The silent </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span> catches Steve off guard. Steve coughs, a lame attempt to cover his embarrassment, but his cheeks heat up. Of course he didn’t tell Bucky he chose the room, and he didn’t ask Bucky if he’d want a floor all to himself. Selfishly, Steve wanted Bucky close. It had been so long since he had his best friend around. He decides to go with a version of the truth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I figured the familiarity would be comforting. There are others, if you’d like to switch.” Steve offers. Bucky shakes his head. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Familiarity.</span>
  </em>
  <span> That’s not something Bucky has known in years. He appreciates the idea.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, this is fine, Steve. Thanks,” Bucky says. Steve’s smile is small, but the warmth he feels isn’t. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s fine. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to grab a quick shower,” Bucky says. For the first time since he got there, Bucky actually looks at Steve. Their eyes lock, and Steve tries to identify what feelings, if any, linger in Bucky’s eyes. He can’t.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve knows Bucky better than anyone, but he has to remind himself that the Bucky he knew so well hasn’t been around in a long time. It’s been years since he could truly read Bucky.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Go ahead. There is plenty of bathroom stuff in there already,” Steve says motioning to the bathroom door. He can feel himself hovering awkwardly, but he can’t help it. He feels as though this is a very fragile dream, and if he looks away, Bucky will disappear again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He forces himself out of the room and back down the hall.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re dropping your shoulder,” Tony says from the sideline. Steve huffs, flicks the sweat out of his eyes, and hits his gloves together. Sweat has pooled in the crevice of his lower back as he bounces lightly on his toes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He holds his arms up to block as he darts left and right. They’re circling each other, a dance of strength and strategy. Natasha is half his size, but she uses that to her advantage as she ducks and hits him in the ribs. He absorbs it in order to strike her in the shoulder. As he plants his feet to punch, he realizes the trap she’s set. With his feet now planted, she is able to swing a leg and clip him in the heels. Natasha is smarter and quicker than most, so it takes her approximately twelve seconds to drop Steve on his ass. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where’s your head right now, Rogers?” Natasha asks. It’s a fair question. Steve clearly isn’t concentrating. Natasha smiles at him, a lion in sheep’s clothing, and helps him back up. As she moves, darting left, right, back, he follows her with his eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They spar often– the whole team does. It keeps them busy, strong, and relaxed. Steve loves any excuse to strap on gloves and get in the ring. He loves the pace and momentum of dancing around an opponent trying to land punches. With all of their experience, they really make up the best competition for each other. Today, however, Steve is lost in his thoughts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he woke up that morning, he startled at the sound of someone in the kitchen. It took him a few seconds to remember Bucky was there, that he hadn’t been dreaming. The reminder made his chest fill with relief. Steve had thrown a shirt on and headed out to the kitchen, but by the time he’d gotten there, Bucky’s door was closed again and the kitchen was empty.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t an ideal first morning with Bucky. Steve is completely lost in thought, which is why he doesn’t see Natasha’s hit coming. Coming down from above his right shoulder, Natasha throws a punch right at Steve’s head. His head rocks back, the headgear absorbing most of the blow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s hard to watch honestly,” Tony says laughing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s like he’s not even here.” Natasha shakes her head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, I’m–” Steve doesn’t know what excuse to use, which is fine because they supply plenty.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Washed up?” Tony suggests.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Chronically old?” Natasha offers. They chuckle at him. At this point Natasha stops bouncing around and lets her arms drop. Steve laughs with them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I guess I’m off today,” Steve says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How’s Barnes doing this morning?” Natasha asks. The knowingness in her eyes lets Steve know she has picked up on his main distraction.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” Steve says. Honesty was always easy for him and Nat. “He hasn’t come out of his room much.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It takes time getting used to this place,” Natasha says. He knows she is thinking about when Steve moved in. It took him two weeks before he could sleep in the bed through the night rather than wandering the quiet halls.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh you poor things. All set up in the lap of luxury. How hard this must be for you.” Tony mocks, squirting water into his mouth as he tosses a towel at Steve. Natasha shoots him a very pointed, very typical Nat look.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who could possibly feel uneasy with such a gracious and humble host?” Natasha retorts. Tony waves her off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You said it, not me. Listen, tell Barnes I want to have a group dinner tonight. Pepper’s been bugging me to set something up since we all got back to New York. Tonight’s as good a night as any,” Tony says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s not a bad idea,” Steve says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“None of mine are,” Tony says smiling. He leaves the gym with a salute. The silence hangs for a beat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just remind him that you’re there, and be patient.” Nat’s voice draws Steve’s attention. “When I moved Clint in, he loved to hole himself up in his room too. Sometimes they just need to adjust. Dinner is a good idea. Start there.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve nods and they gather their stuff. The elevator drops Natasha off first, and once again Steve is left with his own thoughts. He’s never been an over-thinker. Steve prides himself on his calm, collected nature because it has been known to help him help others in times of great need. But Bucky is not just a civilian. He isn’t a stranger Steve needs to tiptoe around.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The elevator lets him off and he pads down the hallway. He listens carefully for signs of life and frowns slightly when he doesn’t hear any. It’s still early. Bucky could have gone back to sleep. Steve drops his stuff in the kitchen and heads down the hall a little further.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky’s door is shut, again. Steve knocks. He listens to the movement inside and smiles as the footsteps get closer to the door. The door opens slowly and reveals a very tussled Bucky.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good morning,” Steve says smiling.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Bucky says. He rubs his eyes, runs a hand through his hair, and swings the door fully open. Steve’s breath catches a little when he sees him. The first thing Steve notices is Bucky’s arm. He doesn’t mean to stare, but he’s drawn to it. The metal peeks out of the tank top and cascades down from his shoulder, making the perfect mold of a taught bicep and lean forearm. It’s an exact reflection of his right arm. The only thing that doesn’t match is the color. The arm, obviously metallic and shining, is a stark contrast to Bucky’s tanned, right arm. It’s kind of stunning. Steve clears his throat, not sure what to make of his sudden fixation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How’d the first night go?” He asks. He can see past Bucky that the bed is barely disturbed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It was fine,” Bucky says shrugging. “The bed is very soft.” Steve laughs knowingly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You get used to it,” he says. “I don’t know what your plans are for today, but Tony has invited us to dinner tonight with everybody.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve watches Bucky consider this.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is that a good idea?” Bucky asks. Steve thinks about Natasha’s advice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Steve says with finality. “For all his talking, Tony is a great cook. Plus you’ll have me there. It’ll be easy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not worried about the food,” Bucky says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He invited you, Buck. He wants you there.” Steve knows Bucky worries about Tony’s judgement. When the accords were being drawn up, Bucky was labeled a threat and a concern. Obviously, he wasn’t a weapon the government could commandeer, but Tony was the one to mention monitoring him because at the time it was a legitimate concern. It was the largest fight him and Steve had ever had.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky tilts his head and looks at Steve. Steve holds his breath and prays. Bucky’s hair falls in such a way that it frames his face. Steve has to fight the urge to tuck the hair behind one of his ears. The silence stretches like a mile in front of them, and Steve starts to get anxious. What if Bucky refuses? What if he regrets moving in? What if he– </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ok. I’ll come,” Bucky says. He smiles lightly. The sight of it almost makes Steve jump with joy, and he thinks this is another great step towards getting Bucky settled in.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve is waiting at the kitchen counter and flipping through mail when Bucky comes out of his room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tony didn’t mention what he’s making, but I figure if you don’t like it, we can just come back and whip us up some–” Steve’s words die in his throat when he looks up. Bucky’s hair has lost the morning mess and frizz and is neatly brushed behind his ears. A maroon long sleeve hugs his chest and arms, highlighting the ridges of his upper body and tapering at his waist. Bucky frowns at Steve’s silence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Am I underdressed? You didn't mention a dress code, ” Bucky says seriously.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” Steve manages to say, blinking. Suddenly his mouth is dry. Sahara desert dry. “No. You look good.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky grins and looks down at himself one last time. Steve blinks another thought away and straightens up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ok, let’s go.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They ride the elevator up to Tony’s floor. Steve is suddenly hyper aware of how much space is between him and Bucky– it’s not much. He can almost feel the warmth radiating off of Bucky. He’s used to being observant; it’s a skill Steve has leaned on a lot in his life. This felt different. It felt electric, involuntary, like there was a magnet on Bucky, drawing Steve closer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You just haven’t spent much time with him; you’re still excited to have him back. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Steve reassures himself as the elevator dings open.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The rich smells of something grilled envelopes them as they step off the elevator. Bucky falls back and lets Steve lead them in. Steve follows the hallway until it drops them in the living room. The layout of Tony’s floor is more open than Steve’s. The living room is sunken, overlooks it is a bar and the kitchen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Rogers!” Tony sing songs, a cigar dangling from his mouth. He stirs a pot on the stove and waves them in. “And Barnes! Good to see you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey Tony,” Steve says. Bucky nods but doesn’t offer much of a greeting. Steve knows it took a lot for Bucky to agree to this dinner, so he’s grateful. Before Steve can consider what move to make next, Pepper is swooping in with a huge smile and open arms.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Steve! It’s been too long. Hi James,” she says as she wraps her arms around Steve. Her tiny frame is misleading as she squeezes him tightly. Her warmth melts into Steve, and he relaxes. Pepper has that effect on people. Steve smiles as he watches Pepper pull Bucky in too, acting like she’s known him forever and not like this is the first time they were meeting. He looks less thrilled to be in the hug, but he hugs her back regardless. Steve watches Pepper whisper something into Bucky’s ear and, to Steve’s surprise, Bucky actually smiles a little.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come, and sit down.” Pepper ushers them into the living room where Natasha is already sitting. She offers a nod and a smile to both of them and sips her wine. Pepper hands them each a short glass and pours a deep amber liquid in. Steve inhales the perfumed scent of aged whiskey and swirls the glass around. He notices Bucky takes a sip right away. They relax into the couch, inches from each other. Steve fights the urge to reassure Bucky by pressing their legs together.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How is the room? Do you need anything?” Pepper sits across from them, crossing her legs and looks at Bucky. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No. It’s great, thank you,” Bucky says. Pepper smiles and nods. Steve appreciates her ability to read a moment and not press Bucky for more details.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well dinner is just about done,” Tony says as he joins them in the living room. He sits next to Pepper and reaches for her hand. Their fingers lace easily, like it’s second nature to them. Steve’s chest tightens a little as he thinks about how much he misses that kind of intimacy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Saving the world had always come first for Steve, even when he was a young kid unfit for the army. Given the circumstances, he was thrust into the hero spotlight too fast to live a normal life. That’s not something Steve would ever regret, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t wonder about the normalcy of a domestic life with someone. He’s thought about what it would be like to settle down, make big breakfasts on the weekends, share the covers, and fall asleep knowing there’s someone who can’t wait to start that routine over again with you the next day. It just isn't in the cards for him. He resigned himself to that idea long ago.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What about you, Barnes? Are you all settled in?” Tony asks as he sips a drink.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Bucky says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s good,” Tony says. He takes a breath like he’s about to add something else.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So Steve,” Natasha says suddenly, interrupting. Bucky shoots her a grateful glance over his glass. Tony was being polite, but Bucky would definitely rather the conversation be on anyone but himself. “Have you heard from Sharon lately?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hearing her name startles Steve. He actually had not thought about her since their date, which was weeks ago.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” Steve says. “I’ve been busy.” At this Natasha rolls her eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You are always busy,” Natasha says, air quoting the word busy. “I thought she was nice. I thought you said the date went well.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve can’t be sure, but he thinks he feels Bucky stiffen at the word date. His muscles lose just a fraction of the relaxation they had acquired from sipping on his whiskey.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It was just coffee,” Steve says as a means of dismissal. He wants to drop it. That earns another eye roll from Natasha. Steve catches Tony smirking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t anybody good enough for Captain America?” Tony asks. His eyebrows are raised, but Pepper pinches him in the side and shushes him. Steve can just barely make out the sound of a metal fist clenching.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She’s a perfectly nice girl,” Steve says. “Can we drop this now?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tony puts his hands up in mock defense and heads into the kitchen. He calls them all over to the table moments later and starts passing dishes out. Once the food is served and more drinks are poured, everyone seems to loosen up. Natasha is telling Bucky about the different gyms, and even invites him to check them out with her. In true Tony fashion, it only takes a few more minutes before he has the whole table engrossed in a story.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Everyone is eating and laughing, even Bucky cracks a real smile here and there. He seems to be warming up to them, and Steve catches himself, more than once, staring at Bucky. Steve knows it took a lot to convince Bucky to move into Stark Tower, and, every moment since, he has been chipping away at Bucky’s reluctance.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By the time the night is over, Steve has consumed his weight in delicious food and surprisingly strong whiskey. Thanks to the serum, Steve rarely gets to experience being drunk, but whatever Tony had given them must’ve been made special for him because his chest is warm with the buzz. It’s just enough to make his fingers tingle and his head feel heavy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The elevator doors close, shutting out the remaining sounds of dinner. He stands in the warm silence with Bucky.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So a date, huh?” Bucky’s voice is low and gravely, like it’s crawling out from deep in his throat. He speaks slowly, and Steve wonders if the whiskey is affecting him as much. Steve shivers at the thought.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It was Natasha’s idea. Her way of making me less of a bore.” Steve shrugs. He lets his head roll lightly to the side, and he looks at Bucky. They both start laughing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A bore?” Bucky asks, chuckling. “Are you getting soft in your old age?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey watch it. Old or not, I can still kick your ass,” Steve says. His grin is clearly meant to be a challenge, and he watches Bucky’s smirk light up his face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh you think so?” Bucky raises his eyebrows and stands tall. Steve lets his eyes travel down from Bucky’s face, to his chest, all the way down to his feet. Despite the fog of the whiskey, Steve feels overwhelmingly present.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Steve licks his lips. He sees Bucky follow the movement with his eyes. “I think so.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky’s eyes are dancing. There’s so much excitement behind them. It’s like a breath of fresh air. Steve nearly jolts as he flashes back to Brooklyn right then and there. This is the Bucky he grew up with– always ready for a challenge or a bare knuckle boxing match. He was a kid with so much energy, and he focused it all on Steve.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You couldn’t in Brooklyn, and you can’t now, Rogers.” They hear the elevator ding, a signal that their trip is over. Both of them are still staring at each other. The air nearly crackles it’s so charged. Bucky leans forward, closes the distance between them, and for a moment Steve thinks he’s going to kiss him. He loses the air in his lungs and shuts his eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But I’d like to see you try,” Bucky says against his ear as the doors open. He takes off. Steve shakes his head to clear the thoughts and sprints after him down the narrow hallway. They both come to a sliding stop in the kitchen, and Steve reaches out to grab Bucky by the shirt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He misses, and Bucky spins around. He attempts to grab Steve, aiming for a headlock of some sort. That was Bucky’s favorite move when they were kids. They’d wrestle, and Steve would always end up in a headlock begging Bucky to let go. But Steve is not the small, weak kid he used to be. They jump and dance around each other. Steve blocks Bucky’s swings and attempts to stick his leg between Bucky’s. Steve thinks if he can trip him, he can trap him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their legs get tangled, but instead of just tripping Bucky, they both go crashing down. Steve hits the ground first, instinctively wrapping his arms around Bucky. This proves to be the wrong move as Bucky writhes out of his grasp and instead takes advantage of Steve breaking the fall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky pins Steve under his knee, holding Steve by the wrists. He looms over him, smiling devilishly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just admit it,” Bucky says a little breathlessly. “Old age has weakened you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve breathes out a laugh. It’s so dumb and childish and </span>
  <em>
    <span>fun</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He should fight harder, maybe throw Bucky off of him, but the truth is Steve can feel every point where Bucky is touching him. He can feel every fingerprint on his wrists. He feels dizzy with the realization that Bucky is holding onto him like this again. Each point sparks a tiny flame. He wouldn’t be surprised if there were marks when Bucky lets go, not bruises but fingerprints that would never fade. Steve is breathless– but it’s not from wrestling.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re awfully confident, Barnes,” Steve says. He relaxes his wrists and regains some slack. He feels Bucky loosen his grip and sit back a little, assuming Steve is surrendering.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span> the one on top.” Bucky’s cheeks pinken at the double entendre, and Steve takes that as his chance. Planting his feet on the ground and wrenching his arms out of Bucky’s hold, Steve pushes up until they flip over, and their places are reversed. Steve knows how strong Bucky is, so he has both knees bracketing Bucky’s torso as he fights to hold his arms down, both sets of biceps straining.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The solid grip Steve has on Bucky’s forearms is a bit disorienting, like all of his senses are dialed to eleven, and now he’s the one who gets to leave behind fingerprints. Why does the thought of marking Bucky make Steve’s stomach clench?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ha!” Steve says triumphant. Steve slides his grip up to the metal of Bucky’s wrist as it flexes, and they sit for a moment, neither of them struggling against the other. Neither of them pull away either. Their breathing is loud against the silence of the apartment. For a few beats they just sit there, looking at each other as their breathing evens out. Steve feels that familiar tug he felt in the elevator when he inexplicably thought Bucky was leaning in for a kiss. If he didn’t know any better he’d mistake it for desire.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve thinks if he’s not careful, he could get lost in the blues of Bucky’s eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re not a bore, Steve,” Bucky says finally, letting his arms fall back. His features soften. He’s lost the devilish smirk. His eyes are full of an emotion Steve can’t quite identify. They’re piercing and holding every ounce of Steve’s focus, and Steve finds himself wanting to close the gap between them. He shakes his head to clear the fog, and is suddenly very aware that he’s straddling his best friend.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He pushes off of one knee and falls down beside Bucky. They lay silently on the cool floor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Steve says. A moment of silence passes before he says, “Hey Buck?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad you moved in.” Steve’s words hang in the air for a moment before settling over them like a blanket.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There are so many other things Steve wants to add, but the silence feels comfortable, and his head feels heavier. Laying next to Bucky on the hardwood floor, Steve’s eyes start to flutter closed. He lets himself appreciate the darkness and his arm against Bucky’s.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Me too,” Bucky says, but Steve is already asleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It only takes two weeks for Bucky and Steve to find their rhythm. Bucky is always awake first, making some noise in the kitchen. Steve joins him after waking to the smell of whatever Bucky has decided to make. He watches over Bucky’s shoulder as he fries eggs or flips pancakes. Occasionally he’ll lean forward and press himself against Bucky’s shoulder to get a better look. Bucky doesn’t seem to mind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They eat and usually head down to the gym. Steve encouraged Bucky to spar with him and Natasha. They’ll alternate between boxing matches and the weight room, though Bucky is very careful when they spar and usually chooses to just watch. </span>
  <em>
    <span>On account of the unfair advantage</span>
  </em>
  <span> Bucky said pointing to his arm the first day. Steve tried to assure him the precautions weren’t necessary, but that wasn’t a battle he was going to win anytime soon.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Some days Bucky and Natasha will go to the gym even if Steve can’t, but Bucky is always back upstairs showered and ready for whatever the day might hold by the time Steve gets back. Steve is glad to see Bucky get more comfortable with Natasha. Nat is an easy person to like. Steve knew that from the moment he met her, but Bucky isn’t very trusting– especially after everything he's been through. So it’s encouraging to see Bucky opening up to Nat, even if the thought occasionally makes Steve’s chest simmer with jealousy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Despite those childish feelings, Steve thinks things are going really well. Little hints of Bucky’s comfort stretch across the flat. A sweatshirt slung over a chair, Bucky sitting on the couch instead of behind a closed bedroom door, the stereo churning out Bucky’s favorite albums. Steve can see the sense of home developing. It makes him happier than he thought possible.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All of this makes the scene before him less surprising, but not any less hilarious. When Steve gets back from meeting with Tony that afternoon, he finds a very frustrated Bucky in the kitchen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Up to his elbows in flour, Bucky curses to himself. He squints trying to read the recipe pulled up in front of him. When he sees Steve, his eyes soften the tiniest bit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well aren’t you a regular Betty Crocker,” Steve says, and the look Bucky gives him makes him laugh. A very white middle finger emerges from the heap of flour. “What are you making?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It was supposed to be dough,” Bucky says sighing. There’s so much flour on his arms, Steve isn’t sure where the dough ends and Bucky’s hands begin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dough for what?” Steve asks while he finally makes out a misshapen heap of crumbles on the counter.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Pie,” Bucky says. Steve laughs harder at that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Have you ever even made a pie?” Steve asks even though he knows the answer. By now he’s come around the kitchen island to stand at Bucky’s side. The air is filled with flour dust.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No time like the present.” Bucky scowls and tries to dust some of the flour off of his hands. Steve takes a dishrag and begins dusting Bucky off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They watch the flour fall to the counter, leaving behind little clouds. He continues, wiping the cloth down Bucky’s arm. He feels the ridges of the metal under the towel, and it feels strangely intimate. He wants to replace the towel with his fingers and feel the metal against his skin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s too easy for Steve to get lost in this simple act. He could have just handed Bucky the towel to clean himself up, but the thought doesn’t even occur to him. He startles when Bucky clears his throat. “Thanks,” Bucky says as Steve finishes up, moving to sweep the fallen flour into little piles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So what’s the special occasion?” Steve finally asks. In his years of knowing him, Steve has learned that Bucky knows next to nothing about baking. Bucky blushes faintly at the question.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s almost July,” he says like that explains anything. Steve cocks an eyebrow, and he’s about to reiterate the question when it dawns on him. It isn’t only almost July. It’s almost Steve’s birthday. The thought makes his stomach flip. The sudden warmth Steve feels is dizzying.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t stop smiling if someone paid him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is for me?” Steve asks, still smiling. At that, Bucky rolls his eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not a big deal,” he says, but he is smiling too. “I was just thinking about that tiny place around the corner.” Steve knows what he’s talking about before he even finishes. Best damn apple pie Steve has ever had. They went every year on his birthday and ate pie for breakfast.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Gullivers,” they say at the same time. Bucky smiles and nods.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You remember,” Bucky says almost to himself. Like Steve would ever forget. Bucky focuses his attention back on the recipe. “Anyway I figured this could be my test run pie, and if it didn’t work out, I could fix it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Clearly you needed the practice,” Steve says smiling at the mess. Bucky laughs, flicking flour at Steve.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You should have been here an hour ago when I couldn’t figure out which was powdered sugar and which was flour.” Steve is thrilled to see Bucky so relaxed. His shoulders aren’t as rigid. His mouth is turned up at the corner, a small smile hanging around. It’s really nice, and Steve realizes he would do anything to keep things like this. He’s so grateful to have his best friend back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I wish I had been,” Steve agrees. He thinks Bucky blushes, but he can’t be sure.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It said to knead in flour,” Bucky says finally, trying to figure out where he went wrong.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah but probably not a whole bag.” Steve smirks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright smartass, how do we salvage it?” Bucky waits expectantly, but Steve only smiles wider, heart stuck on </span>
  <em>
    <span>we</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll get rid of the extra flour, why don’t you add a little water and try to shape it into a disc,” Steve instructs. After successfully sweeping the piles of extra flour into the trash, Steve settles back at Bucky’s side. He manages to turn the crumbling mess into what actually looks like a dough. Together they’re able to assemble a filling. Steve laughs at Bucky’s inability to peel apples, and Bucky laughs at Steve getting hit with said unpeeled apple. Eventually the pie is assembled and baking, Bucky smiling at it stupidly through the oven’s glass door.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The clean up is easy and quiet as they move around each other in comfortable silence. Steve washes dishes while Bucky dries and stores them. Steve recognizes that magnetic feeling again. A deep, sturdy pull that moves him towards Bucky, keeps him anchored near him. It was as if they were tied together. Steve rolls his eyes at himself. He didn’t realize just how much he missed Bucky.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That feeling lasts through dinner, however, as they sit on the couch and pass chinese take out back and forth. Bucky throws a fortune cookie at Steve’s head. It bounces into his lap while Bucky’s laugh bounces around the room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“‘Happiness is in front of you,’” Steve reads. Bucky scoffs at the fortune, stealing the actual cookie to eat because he knows Steve isn’t going to.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That could mean anything,” Bucky says around a mouthful of cookie. “Not much of a fortune, if you ask me.” He pushes himself off the couch and disappears into the kitchen. When he returns, he has two pieces of pie.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Be honest now,” Bucky says, extending a plate to Steve. “I’ll only cry a little if you tell me it’s bad.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve laughs and scoops up a big chunk and pops it in his mouth. Bucky does the same. Steve watches Bucky watch him try the pie, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t relish the undivided attention. There’s something about Bucky’s gaze being focused solely on Steve that makes him sweat a little. If his stomach does a few flips, it’s nobody’s business but his own.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well?” Bucky’s impatience makes Steve grin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Damn,” Steve says. “This is one of the best pies I’ve ever had.” He isn’t lying but he suspects he would have anyway if it meant he could see Bucky smile like that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re lying,” Bucky says with a laugh, but Steve insists. He takes another huge bite, getting lost in the sweetness of it. Steve watches Bucky smile to himself, notices the crinkles that form by his eyes and the light that seems to radiate from him, and Steve realizes he disagrees with Bucky’s earlier skepticism. His fortune is perfect.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>July 4th starts like a regular day, if regular days started with a heart stopping confetti cannon. The blast of air jolts Steve up from his bed. His fists are ready to fight whatever is likely there to kill him, but all he can see is raining blues and reds.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“At ease, Rogers!” Tony says excitedly. Confetti litters the bed and the floor and some of Steve. When Steve finally registers what’s in front of him he sees Tony and Nat smiling wide and wearing ridiculous birthday hats. This can’t be good.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What--” Steve says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Happy birthday!” Natasha hugs him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Happy birthday, Steve,” Tony says as he claps him on the back. Over Tony’s shoulder Steve sees Bucky leaning against the wall amused. They lock eyes, and Steve narrows his.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did you know about this?” Steve asks. Bucky smiles and shrugs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We swore him to secrecy,” Tony says. “It’s not every day you turn… 93? I gotta tell you. You look great for your age.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t suppose my gift is you cleaning this confetti up?” Steve asks. He looks around the room at what seems to be millions of colorful scraps of paper.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It could be.” Tony raises his eyebrows. “But then I’d have to take your other gift back.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tony,” Steve says, starting to argue. He didn’t want gifts. It was something he’d been quite clear about.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Trust me.” Tony holds a hand up to stop him. “You want this gift. You can even take Barnes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At the mention of taking Bucky, Steve immediately grows more fond of the idea. He doesn’t even need to know where they’re going. If Bucky is there, Steve thinks he’d go anywhere.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Steve says. He smiles at his friends, his heart feeling a little fuller. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As promised, Tony and Natasha leave their well wishes, and all of the confetti, behind when they leave.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve flips his comforter up and down to remove the confetti. He watches it shower onto the floor and realizes he’s only redirected the mess. As he’s making the bed, Bucky wanders back in.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Delivery for the birthday boy,” Bucky says. He presents Steve with a piece of pie with a candle sticking out. Steve smiles at Bucky and at a certain fondness that’s grown very familiar as of late.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Pie for breakfast?” Steve raises his eyebrows.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well it </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> a tradition,” Bucky says matter of factly. “Make a wish.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve steps closer, tempted to cup Bucky’s hands where they hold the plate, but he keeps his arms firmly at his sides. Lying dormant somewhere in his brain is a wish that startles Steve. He closes his eyes and lets himself wish it anyway.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once the candle is blown out, and Bucky hands him the plate, Steve gets the overwhelming urge to pull his friend close. He can remember the last birthday he spent with Bucky, and his heart aches at how long ago it was-- at how different things were. He figures it’s his birthday; he can indulge if he wants to.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve pulls Bucky in and hugs him. He can tell by the way Bucky stiffens that he wasn’t expecting the hug, but relief floods through Steve as Bucky relaxes into it. His hands wrap around Steve tightly. They breathe together, shoulders moving lightly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve is too busy breathing in the warmth and proximity of Bucky, losing himself in the feeling of his best friend. If he’s being honest, he doesn’t want to let go. Reluctantly he pulls back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tony’s gift is in the kitchen,” Bucky says when they separate. He is smiling, undoubtedly because he knows what the gift is.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve finds an envelope on the counter addressed to </span>
  <em>
    <span>America’s Ass</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He rolls his eyes and opens it with a smirk.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No way.” Steve looks up, his excitement matching Bucky’s. “Today?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A car will be here around noon to take us over,” Bucky says. Steve scans the letter, his excitement growing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dear Mr. Rogers, on behalf of Tony Stark, for your birthday, please enjoy a private tour of Ebbets Field-- home of the Brooklyn Dodgers.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve looks up before finishing the letter. The Dodgers have been Steve and Bucky’s favorite baseball team since they were little. The idea of a private tour, a day with Bucky, has Steve’s heart beating against his ribs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is for real?” Steve asks laughing. Bucky nods, and Steve finishes reading the letter. The excitement he feels doesn’t lessen at all while he gets ready. A whole day in one of his favorite places with one of his favorite people on the planet is just about the best a birthday can get, Steve thinks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An hour later, the car drops them at the front gates of the Dodgers’ stadium. They’re escorted in and the manager explains the parameters of their tour.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Stark had a feeling you would not want an escort,” the manager explains smiling, “so you two are welcome to start the tour wherever you’d like and work your way through at your own pace. You can take these audio guides for the museum portion.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They each take an audio system and headphones and tuck them in their pockets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As you go, you’ll notice signs prompting you to continue forward or avoid entering. We ask that you listen to those signs so as to avoid potentially dangerous areas of construction or electrical work.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky snorts. The manager gives him an apologetic smile, one that says ‘I know a warning like this to men like you is unnecessary.’</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Legally I am required to give you this speech.” The manager smiles at them. “Any questions?” Steve and Bucky exchange glances and shake their heads.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No. I think we’ve got it, thank you,” Steve says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright! If you need anything, just ask an employee. We are stationed all over.” The manager gives them a nod, and they head deeper into the stadium.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Every baseball stadium looks more or less the same. Long open floors crowded with food stands usher people towards the main attraction. Hallways stretch long and section signs hang high to direct traffic. None of that mattered to Steve in the moment. As he walked next to Bucky through the emptiness of the stadium, it felt like he was seeing one for the first time. Here he was, exploring one of his happiest childhood memories, and he was next to Bucky while he did it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come on, it says the hall of fame room is this way,” Bucky says as he tugs Steve forward. They follow the hallway as it wraps them around empty vendor carts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The hall of fame room’s door is propped open, and they wander in. Steve is struck by nostalgia. All of his baseball heroes hang on the wall, looking back at him. He can remember every game, every bag of popcorn or peanuts. He can still smell the hot oil wafting from behind the food cart as he tried to hand the cashier his dollar while Bucky blocked him and paid for them both.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is so cool,” Steve says. Bucky watches him move from picture to picture. His fingertips glide over the plaques, tracing the history. He reads every word and snaps a few photos. Bucky watches Steve’s amazement, a tight fondness blooming in his chest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, let’s take a picture,” Bucky says suddenly, the memory of their first game together playing on repeat behind his eyes. His chest tightens. Nostalgia can be a real bitch sometimes. He blinks himself back in the moment. He wants to remember this too. Steve seems delighted by the idea and pulls out his phone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve and him agree that the picture should have Jackie Robinson’s hall of fame picture in the background. As their all time favorite baseball player, it seemed right that this memory included him too. As they move towards the photo, Bucky slips his arm around Steve. They smile wide as Steve snaps the photo, and if Bucky’s arm lingers around Steve a few seconds after the photo is taken it’s nobody’s business but his own.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They continue to wander until they get to an opening for the field. Of course as kids they barely had enough money for nosebleed tickets let alone dugout seats. Just walking onto the field was enough to make their heads rush.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Despite years of maintenance that definitely changed the structure around them, the foundation, the dirt, was the same as it was eighty-five years ago. Steve and Bucky wander out onto the grass. Their smiles stretch so wide across their faces it’s as if they mean to cut them in half.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve jogs out to the mound, laughing. He stands ready, nodding at Bucky to take his place in the batter’s box. Bucky rolls his eyes but obliges. Steve narrows his eyes and pretends to read his imaginary catcher’s signs. Shaking his head a few times and then nodding, Steve exaggerates his throw. Bucky laughs through his entire swing, warmed by more than the afternoon sun.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky pretends to hit a rocket and takes off. He’s running to first base, and he’s almost there, before he realizes Steve is also running to first base. Steve gets there before Bucky and stands there ready to catch the fake throw from left field.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky hits the bag at the same time Steve yells, “You’re out!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re a cheater, Steve Rogers.” Bucky is breathing heavily, but he’s smiling.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It was a fantastic throw,” Steve says and shrugs. He smiles at Bucky and squints in the sun.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I guess since it’s your birthday,” Bucky says, exaggerating an eye roll.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh don’t do me any favors,” Steve says as he reaches out to pinch Bucky in the arm. Bucky pulls away, countering with a flick to Steve’s ear, but Steve catches his hand. Instead of dropping it, he holds it for a moment. It’s warm and nice, and surely Bucky is imagining the way Steve’s eyes hold the sunlight.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well? Shall well?” Bucky motions towards the stadium seating. Steve nods and drops his hand. Bucky fights the urge to reach for Steve again. They head back to the entrance. The tour was everything Steve imagined it would be, and he takes a last glimpse as they make their way back to the front.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This was perfect,” he says not really for anyone to hear, but Bucky does.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Happy birthday, Steve.” He knocks their shoulders together and smiles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The ride home is less exciting as they sag against the leather seats, exhausted. Despite the roomy backseat of this town car, Steve relaxes against Bucky’s side, relishing in the warmth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The warm bubble they seem to be in follows them out of the car and up to their floor. Their proximity adds to the comfort around them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do you think we should do for dinner?” Bucky asks when they get off the elevator.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Whatever you want is good with me,” Steve says. Bucky sighs and laughs at him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” he says like he’s scolding a toddler. “It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> birthday, Steve. You have to choose.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They argue about whether it being Steve’s birthday entitles him to push the responsibility of picking what they have for dinner onto Bucky. After conceding that it does in fact entitle Steve in such a way, Bucky gives up and orders them pizza. He figures it was one of the ballpark foods they would share when they went to watch the Dodgers, so it fits with the day’s theme.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Each of them grab a shower before dinner arrives, and it’s not long before they’re folded onto the couch with their plates. Bucky sits with his feet up on the coffee table while Steve sits facing him, legs folded up, toes buried under Bucky’s leg. It’s very domestic, but Steve can’t think of a time when he didn’t feel like being close to Bucky. He’s always gravitated towards him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve eats and watches Bucky fondly. Bucky is telling him a story he’s already heard, one he remembers from their childhood. Steve smiles to himself as Bucky’s eyes crinkle around a laugh. He loves watching Bucky remember the good parts of his life. The more Bucky remembers, the less he needs to forget. Steve wiggles his toes under Bucky’s leg and laughs with him. It’s so easy to be happy here.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the middle of his story, Bucky does a double take. Steve blinks, horrified for a second that Bucky caught him staring, but Bucky just laughs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You have--” Bucky motions to Steve’s cheek, but Steve frowns confused. Bucky reaches out, brushing his finger against Steve’s cheek. Steve holds his breath. “Sauce,” Bucky says finally, holding the finger in front of Steve so he can see.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve laughs, looking at the red tip of Bucky’s finger. Before he even knows what he’s doing, Steve leans forward and closes his mouth around Bucky’s finger. He sucks the sauce off, tongue dragging against Bucky’s index, eyes going wide as he processes what he’s doing. Bucky’s eyes also widen, and he swallows hard, but he doesn’t snatch his hand back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve leans back quickly and forces out a laugh. He smiles innocently and tries to ignore the arousal that spikes in his gut. Bucky relaxes at Steve’s reaction, but the shock never leaves his eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve wants to crawl into the ground and disappear. This new want, this pull, is clouding Steve’s head. He let himself indulge a few times, a touch here, a glance there, but now he slipped up. He doesn’t want anything to make Bucky uncomfortable, let alone his own ridiculous impulses. They were just getting their life back. Steve clears his throat and mumbles something about doing the dishes before he flees the living room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As soon as Steve is out of the room, Bucky rubs a hand down his face. He’s sure he just looked like a deer in headlights, but it wasn’t fear pinning him to the couch. It was the intense shock of desire. A spark of red hot impulse shot through him when Steve’s mouth closed around his finger. Bucky presses the coolness of his metal wrist against his forehead, his neck. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He breathes unevenly, trying to calm himself down. He squeezes his eyes shut and silently curses himself. The way Steve rushed to get away from him stains Bucky’s memory. He flinches at the mental image. They were having such a good day. Steve was getting the birthday he deserved, and Bucky had to ruin it. What Steve surely meant as a joke shocked Bucky so badly that he wigged out-- if only for a moment. How could he have been so overtaken by that fraction of a second? Bucky groans.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He decides the only way to move forward is to follow Steve’s lead and play it off as nothing. Bucky heads to the kitchen with the pizza box. Steve is at the sink, his back to Bucky.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Does Stark Tower recycle?” Bucky asks jokingly. He knows the answer, but the thought of entering the kitchen without announcing himself made his stomach flip.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve tenses at the sink slightly. “Yeah,” he says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you need any help?” Bucky asks after he’s broken down and discarded the box. He realizes it’s a ridiculous question seeing as Steve only had two plates to deal with, but the silence threatens awkwardness. Bucky tenses.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, I’ve got it,” Steve says and, to Bucky’s minor relief, he smiles at him. It’s not Steve’s regular sunlight in a bottle smile, and Bucky wants to disappear knowing he may have caused that. Bucky nods and busies himself with the fraying string of his sweats.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once everything is cleaned up, Bucky notices they are milling around the living room straightening things that don’t need to be straightened. Bucky refolds a blanket, and Steve adjusts a chair. It’s as if the silence is ushering them around because neither of them are ready to leave the other’s side, and to speak would be to break the silence and to break the silence would be to acknowledge the truth behind it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The air is heavy and eventually Bucky is the one to initiate it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think I’m going to turn in,” Bucky says. Steve’s smile is gentle as he nods.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah me too,” Steve says, but neither of them move. They look at each other, and Bucky pinches his leg through his sweats in an attempt to redirect his focus on something other than Steve’s mouth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, uh. I hope,” Bucky says as they move closer to each other. “I hope you had a good birthday.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It was great,” Steve says smiling lightly, “best one in a while.” Another step closer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Bucky says. He takes another step.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mhm,” Steve scuffs his socked foot on the ground. Bucky knows he should just say goodnight and duck into his room. He knows Steve is probably still trying to figure out what is wrong with him, but he can’t help thinking about the alternative. What if it isn’t disgust or concern that creates these awkward silences but a mutual curiosity? What if he leaned in deliberately?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, goodnight,” Steve says. The words yank Bucky out of his head and into the moment. Steve is turning away when Bucky reaches for him. He catches the back of Steve’s hand with his fingertips.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait, Steve.” Bucky isn’t sure what he wants, having reached out on instinct. He isn’t sure what reaction he’s expecting, but Steve turns with wide eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Steve looks at him, and Bucky’s resolve falters.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I just,” Bucky has been to war. Why can’t he do this? “Nothing, nevermind. Goodnight.” He steps forward and pulls Steve into a hug. It’s not what he wanted, but it’s better than nothing. Bucky holds Steve against him, briefly, so as to not over do it. He doesn’t want to take advantage of his friend because of some misread signals.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They part and Bucky’s door is closed before he can change his mind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The next few days pass with relative normalcy. Steve seems to move and act normally while Bucky steals glances and becomes hyper aware of the distance between them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After a great session in the gym and a hot shower, Steve finds Bucky on the couch with a book. Bucky had politely declined Steve’s invitation that morning, hoping he could lose himself in the pages and maybe get an hour of clarity.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Since when do you read?” Steve asks, teasing. He falls into the couch besides Bucky. Bucky smiles lightly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Since I woke up one day and realized I didn’t know what was going on in the real world,” Bucky says grinning. Steve knows all too well what that feels like.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And all of a sudden everything’s a bit faster and cooler,” Steve says. “It was a rude awakening.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, at least you didn’t wake up with a bounty on your head,” Bucky jokes. It’s supposed to be flippant, but it hits Steve like a gut punch, and he frowns at the implications. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky didn’t spend his decades frozen the same way Steve had, but in a way he lost just as much time. Bucky may not have literally been asleep the whole time, but his actions were not his. They were an unconscious, manipulated string of horrors that he had no control over. A constant show he couldn’t turn off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is that what it felt like? Waking up?” Steve asks. He knows how delicate this subject is for Bucky, but selfishly he wants to know more. He wants to shoulder some of the burden. It’s been a quiet few days, as if Bucky was tiptoeing around Steve. He didn’t like it, wanted desperately to be let in again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky’s grin slips off his face, and he closes the book. Steve wants to kick himself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You idiot, you absolute ass</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The silence is heavy, but Steve doesn’t know how to fix it. He’s about to stutter out a lame apology when Bucky sighs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah kind of,” he says. He’s almost whispering, and Steve has to concentrate to hear him. “I was… in there, but it was like a nightmare.” Bucky closes his eyes. He flexes his hands and looks at them. Steve can’t imagine what it was like to be a dormant force in your own mind, knowing what was happening and being unable to stop it. He sits quietly, waiting for Bucky to continue.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think they expected me to survive, much less remember anything,” Bucky says after a while. His laugh is short, bitter. “Of course they didn’t, but I remember it all. Every person.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Every death.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “I’ll never forget.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Buck,” Steve starts. “That wasn’t–”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Steve, don’t.” Bucky looks at him. The sadness in his eyes is alarming. “Don’t say it wasn’t me because it was. I may not have been making the decisions, but it was my hands hurting people. It was me they saw.” Hearing Bucky speak this openly makes Steve’s insides flip-- and instead of offering him the safe zone he so desperately needed, Steve had given into his own selfish urges. What was he thinking? Bucky didn’t need Steve’s drama. He needed his best friend.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe it </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> you,” Steve stresses the words carefully, “but it </span>
  <em>
    <span>isn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> you. You are one of the best people I know, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> you isn’t responsible for the past.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That me </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> the past, Steve,” Bucky says, frustration growing. Steve shakes his head, trying to understand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bucky, you’re still you.” Steve itches to reach for him, to hold his hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not the me you remember.” This time Bucky’s voice comes out like a sad sigh. It burns Steve deep in his throat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s not--” Steve starts, embarrassed at how tears prick his eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It is,” Bucky finishes for him. “It’s true. I can’t forget the things I’ve done, and I can’t escape them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know it feels that way,” Steve says gently. “But you can’t bear that cross forever, Bucky. You have to forgive yourself.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Could you?” Silence punctuates Bucky’s question. Eyes focused on Steve, Bucky waits. Steve hesitates, not unsure of what to say but how to say it, and that pause is all Bucky needs. “That’s what I thought.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky is up and off the couch heading to his room before Steve can utter an explanation. Steve knows how much darkness is in Bucky. Steve can understand the way it pools in Bucky’s memory like a plague. He never misunderstood the weight of the guilt Bucky was carrying around. He just wished he knew how to lift it off of him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sound of the bedroom door shutting makes Steve flinch. It pulls him out of his thoughts and up off the couch. Steve walks towards Bucky’s room, his instincts pushing him towards the door as Bucky heads away from it. Maybe he should give him space, but he’s afraid of what horrible assumptions Bucky will make of his silence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He knocks on the door.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not now, Steve.” Bucky’s voice comes from beyond the door. It’s level, emotionless.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bucky, please open the door,” Steve pleads. He can’t hear any movement, and the seconds pass agonizingly. “I can stand here all day.” Steve jokes nervously.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The door opens. Bucky’s eyes are narrowed, and Steve clears his throat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t . . . be able to forgive myself. Not at first,” Steve admits. “But I’d want someone to tell me it was an option-- to remind me that I was worth forgiving.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky stares at him but doesn’t respond. He drops his eyes, so he doesn’t have to look at Steve. Steve can tell from the way Bucky’s fists flex that he wants to bolt. He itches to reach out and hold his hand steady. He continues, determined to right his own wrong.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And you are worth forgiving,” Steve says finally. His candor surprises himself, and Bucky looks up then. He stares at Steve, and Steve thinks for a fraction of a second he might believe what Steve’s saying. There’s a flash of what looks like gratitude, albeit cloaked in self-loathing, but Steve smiles hopefully.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” is all Bucky says before closing the door again. Steve’s smile falls. He stares at the door, white wood where Bucky’s eyes had been. It’s a much less beautiful sight, Steve thinks as he moves, defeated, to his own room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Behind the locked door Bucky sits on his bed, metal fist clenching the comforter. He wants to tear it up and burn the pieces. He wants to put his arm through the wall. He wants to flip the bed and the desk and the chair, and he knows he could. It’s tempting. But most of all he wants Steve to be right.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve’s words aren’t falling on deaf ears-- just ears that know better. Whether he meant to or not, Bucky knows he became a monster, and he can’t let Steve forget that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The joy Bucky had felt when Steve remembered their favorite bakery, the rush of butterflies he felt when Steve held his hand are now a bittersweet slap to the face. It was a fleeting reminder of their old life, a hint of intimacy long forgotten.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He knows when Steve showed up at his door and invited him to move in, he was inviting the old Bucky. He knows that baking one pie for Steve’s birthday is not enough to quiet the demons in his head. He knows no amount of old stories shared on living room couches can erase his sins. No amount of secret glances or brushes of the hand could make him innocent.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve didn’t know who he was inviting in. He didn’t know he was opening his home to a head case. He couldn’t have known, or he never would have opened the door. And now rather than just be grateful for Steve’s generosity, Bucky’s started to give into a fantasy. He’s started to ask himself the what if’s that come from an awakening, a realization, he never asked for.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The thought makes Bucky’s chest ache. Steve is the strongest, most selfless person he knows-- he’s ever known-- and it’s this thought that makes Bucky finally sink to the floor, back pressed against the mattress, head in his hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There is nothing about Bucky that deserves forgiveness, that deserves love, especially not from a man as noble and righteous as Steve. For the briefest moment, Bucky lets himself get lost in the memories of Brooklyn.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At thirteen and fourteen, Steve and Bucky had been all but joined at the hip. Steve’s personality was too big for his body, and it was Bucky’s job to keep him out of trouble. Bucky remembers how they spent many winters huddled under blankets, trying to trap the warmth between them as they laughed at the possibilities of their future. Him and Steve had relied on each other, protected each other. Steve was the one person in life that Bucky could go to no matter what, and for a long time Bucky was his person as well.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The memory stings horribly and Bucky reaffirms what he already knew. Maybe the old him might have deserved someone like Steve, but that person is long gone. It burns a hole where his heart might be, but Bucky has made up his mind. He won’t drag Steve down into the depths of this nightmare with him, no matter how badly he wants the company. He can keep these feelings a secret and push forth the status quo. It’s what Steve deserves-- what they both deserve.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky doesn’t come out of his room until later that night. He contemplates staying put until tomorrow, but decides ultimately he needs to face Steve so things can get back to normal. The thought makes him a little sick, but he steels himself for the confrontation anyway.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky finds Steve sitting in the kitchen, a bowl of cereal forgotten in front of him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Bucky says. Steve startles a little and looks up. Bucky almost thinks he looks relieved.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey.” Steve watches Bucky carefully as he stands across from him, a stretch of marble between them. “About before,” Steve starts but Bucky holds up his hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” Bucky says, hoping that maybe if he says it enough, he’ll believe it. “I’m ready to forget it, if you are.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve’s eyes look sad. He wants to press the issue, but he’s afraid if he says anymore he’ll send Bucky packing, and he couldn’t stand that--not when it feels like he just got him back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sure.” Steve nods reluctantly. Bucky’s return nod is curt and quick. He clears his throat pathetically.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Cereal for dinner? Really, Steve?” Bucky attempts a smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t feel like cooking,” Steve says grinning. Bucky laughs and grabs his own bowl. He fills it up and takes the stool next to Steve. He wants to remind Steve of the times they’d had to eat cereal for dinner as kids because they couldn’t afford groceries, but the memory sinks in his stomach like a stone. He ignores it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Would it kill you to eat something sugary?” Bucky says around a mouthful of plain corn flakes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Eventually it might,” Steve jokes. Bucky snorts and rolls his eyes. He finishes his cereal and takes their dishes to the sink.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So did you want to watch a movie or something?” Bucky suggests. That’s a normal thing friends do. He clenches his fist.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Steve says. His voice sounds more relaxed at the idea which in turn relaxes Bucky.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The relaxation doesn’t last much longer as Bucky and Steve settle into the couch. Just being on the couch sends Bucky back to their pizza night. He gets a chill thinking about Steve’s mouth around his finger.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What should we watch?” Steve asks but Bucky is too busy drowning in his head to focus. He mumbles a short </span>
  <em>
    <span>doesn’t matter</span>
  </em>
  <span> and tries to reposition himself farther away from Steve on the couch without being too obvious. Space will make this easier.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky makes it through the whole movie without stealing any glances. He’s content with that until the movie ends and he’s left waiting for Steve to turn the television off. When Steve doesn't, Bucky looks over, ready to crack a joke. Any joke Bucky has disappears because Steve has fallen asleep.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His head lolls to the side, eyelashes fanned out on his cheeks. Despite what he thought was rock hard resolve, Bucky lets himself stare for a moment. The silence is comforting, and Bucky wonders about the softness of Steve’s cheek. He gets up and grabs the softest blanket they have and drapes it over Steve. His hands still by Steve’s head, fingers dying to trace his jaw. Bucky clenches his fists and heads to bed before he does something he’ll regret.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve is whisking eggs one morning, slowly, in the hopes that Bucky will come out of his room for breakfast. When it becomes apparent that Bucky isn’t going to come out on his own, Steve knocks on his door. The door edges open slightly, so Steve peeks in. Much to Steve’s disappointment, the room is empty. Bucky must have gotten an earlier start than Steve thought.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This whole week Steve could sense an awkwardness which he attributed to him pushing Bucky too far. It wasn’t his business to ask those questions, and clearly Bucky was upset by his prying. Steve thought that would be it. He didn’t expect it to sting so bad when Bucky physically moved away from him on the couch. Steve took the hint though, and promised himself he wouldn’t push Bucky anymore. He can stifle these feelings if it means giving Bucky peace of mind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His earlier suspicions are confirmed when he hears the ding of the elevator letting someone off on their floor. Bucky comes off the elevator sweaty and panting. Steve swallows the lump in his throat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Steve says. “Did you want breakfast?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I already ate,” Bucky says. His cut off tank top is not helping Steve’s concentration. The burnt smell of eggs confirms that. He turns back to the stove and tries to salvage the pan.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How was the gym?” Steve asks, his back to Bucky. He finds it’s much easier to speak when he’s not trying to follow the drops of sweat as they race down Bucky’s arms.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It was fine,” Bucky says, quickly adding, “I’m going to shower.” He’s out of the room before Steve can turn around. Steve sighs heavily, tossing the burnt eggs in the trash and leaving the kitchen himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe it’s Steve’s promise to himself to give Bucky space, or to be a friend and not pressure him for anything more, but whatever the cause, Steve finds himself grabbing his phone, looking for an escape.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That night the mirror in the bathroom is fogged up, and Steve swipes a hand down it. He stares at himself wondering if he’s making a mistake. When he agreed to see Sharon again, upon Natasha’s insisting, he thought it would be good to get out of the house. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ever since he slipped up on the couch, Steve has been very careful not to touch Bucky too much. He thought that’s what Bucky wanted, but the awkwardness never settled. Every time Steve would open his door, he would listen to Bucky’s shut. They would always just happen to miss each other coming to or back from the gym. Steve felt horrible about pushing him when he clearly wasn’t ready, but he didn’t know what to do. Bucky was avoiding him, and when he wasn’t, there was none of that familiar light behind his eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve thought this would give Bucky some time to enjoy the place without feeling like he had to hide from Steve. Plus, Steve thought, he could have his own chance to kick these feelings once and for all. On his way out, Steve leaves a note on the counter. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Going to grab dinner with Sharon, I’ll be back later.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He knows Bucky might be napping, so he doesn’t call out a goodbye.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As soon as the elevator door shuts, Bucky edges his door open and peeks out. Once he’s satisfied that the apartment is indeed empty, he pads to the kitchen and finds the note. Scanning it three times, there’s something about it that burns low and deep. Bucky gets in the elevator and punches Tony’s floor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If Tony is surprised to see Bucky, he doesn’t show it. He’s laying on his couch, book in hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Barnes, what can I do for you?” Tony asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Bucky says. He isn’t sure how to be casual. “Remember that dinner party?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I am a very gracious host who throws many dinner parties. You’ll have to be more specific,” Tony says smirking. His pension for drama knows no bounds.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My first night here,” Bucky says impatiently. “You had this whiskey…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Tony says knowingly. His smile grows wider and his eyebrows lift suggestively. “You came for the good stuff!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was just wondering if you had anymore.” Bucky feels like a child asking his cousin to sneak him a beer. It’s embarrassing, but Bucky needs it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, there’s some in the kitchen,” Tony says and pushes himself up off the couch. He leaves the room for a moment; the sound of glass clinking travels from the kitchen. He comes back with what looks to be two brand new bottles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Share with Rogers,” Tony says smiling. Bucky clears his throat and takes the bottles with a quick </span>
  <em>
    <span>thanks.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he gets back to his apartment, the note is still on the counter undisturbed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Going to grab dinner with Sharon. Be back later. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Bucky stares at it like he expects it to explain itself. He won’t let himself think about why it bothers him so much-- won’t let himself admit why he can feel this note crawling on his skin like a bug. Why does he care who Steve eats dinner with? His stomach tightens around the unsaid response.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He unscrews the bottle and takes a swig. The burn is good. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Going to grab dinner with Sharon.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He takes another sip. The brown liquid sits in his chest, warming him from the inside out. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Going to grab dinner.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Swig. </span>
  <em>
    <span>With Sharon</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Swig. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sharon.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Double swig.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky takes the bottle with him after stashing the other in the cabinet. He drops onto the couch, bottle clenched in his hands. Despite begging himself not to, he imagines how the date is going. He’s sure Steve is being a gentleman-- pulling out her chair, telling her she looks beautiful, paying for dinner. He takes a heavy swig. The sting is nonexistent now, the liquor just gliding down to mix with the frustration that pools in his gut.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wonders where they went. Maybe somewhere Italian? Steve always loved Italian food. Bucky thinks about the Italian restaurant they used to walk to in Brooklyn when the summer sun was still high in the sky at seven o’clock. Best raviolis in New York. He closes his eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He bets Steve wore something tight like a button up that hugs his chest just so and pants that accentuate his ass. The thought makes Bucky’s mouth dry. Instinctively he ghosts a hand over himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky takes a long pull from the bottle and realizes it half empty. He feels a proper buzz, tipping almost towards drunk. He knows a few more swigs and he’ll be right where he wants to be. As he continues to anger himself with thoughts of Steve’s date, he also wracks his brain for answers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Why can’t he quiet the thoughts? The fiery pull Bucky feels in his chest right now is taunting him. The burn he can blame on the alcohol but that feeling sitting deep in his gut? If he didn’t know any better he’d say it was jealousy. He shakes his head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” he says to nobody. He’s not jealous. He’s not jealous because he doesn’t have the right to be jealous. Steve isn’t his. He doesn’t deserve Steve. Bucky gets off the couch and lets himself wander.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His fingers slide over the books on the shelf. He stops himself when he gets to a picture frame. Him and Steve stare back at him, Jackie Robinson smiling in the background. Bucky smiles at the duo. Steve was so excited he had framed that photo the next day. Bucky’s vision blurs and for a second he imagines Steve and Sharon in the frame. He knocks the frame over, picture side down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky isn’t sure how or when, but he’s back on the couch cradling the bottle of whiskey in one arm. His phone is in his other hand, unlocked and ready. He takes a quick sip from the bottle, marveling at how nearly empty it is now. He scrolls until he gets to his contacts, his vision blurring, and scrolls some more until he gets to </span>
  <em>
    <span>Steve</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shh, it’ll be fine,” he says to the lamp. He hits send. It rings three times before Bucky hears a brief crackle and then the unmistakable sounds of a busy restaurant.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hello?” Steve sounds worried. Bucky laughs. What could he be worried about? “Bucky?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes that’s me,” Bucky smiles at the sound of his name. He wonders what Steve would sound like moaning it. He blinks hard, bringing the living room back into focus. “Are you enjoying your date?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine,” Steve says. Bucky sighs and takes another sip. “Is everything okay?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s the million dollar question,” Bucky says chuckling.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?” Steve still sounds worried. Bucky smiles, picturing Steve’s pinched eyebrows.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did you go to an Italian place? You love Italian food.” Bucky’s breath is warm against the phone. He hears Steve laugh lightly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mexican actually. Sharon’s idea,” Steve says. Bucky frowns at the sound of her name, briefly imagines Steve moaning </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> name. No. He frowns harder. Sharon’s probably nice, but she isn’t right for Steve.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why isn’t she right for me?” Steve asks. Bucky’s eyes go wide at the realization that he said that out loud. His head falls back against the couch, phone still pressed to his ear. The ceiling mocks him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She isn’t,” </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> “old enough.” Bucky listens to the surprised laughter on the other end.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not many people are,” Steve says, voice light with laughter. Bucky’s brain is not quick enough to catch his next words.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I am,” Bucky says. He smacks a hand to his head immediately. “Shit.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bucky.” Steve’s voice is lower now. Bucky clears his throat loudly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I am drunk,” Bucky says feebly. “This stuff Tony made is seriously good. Okay. I’ll let you go. Not polite to keep a lady waiting, Rogers.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t wait for a response. He clicks the phone off and finishes the bottle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only sound Steve hears is the tapping of his foot as he waits impatiently for the elevator to reach his floor. His conversation with Bucky replays over and over in his head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After Bucky hung up on him, Steve had stood shocked with the phone still pressed to his ear for a whole minute. He couldn’t believe what he had just heard. Bucky was obviously drunk. Steve couldn’t hold those words against him, but Bucky had still said them. Feeling only a little guilty, Steve had made up some excuse to end his date early and rushed home.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now Steve tries to calm his racing thoughts as he steps off the elevator. His stomach flips when he sees Bucky curled up on the couch. An empty bottle of whiskey sits on the coffee table. His first instinct is to go to him, so he does.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve sits on the coffee table opposite Bucky. Bucky breathes lightly, blowing a piece of hair back and forth. Steve smiles fondly. He nudges Bucky with his foot.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, wake up,” Steve says quietly. Bucky stirs, blinking slowly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Steve?” His voice is still thick with the effects of the whiskey.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, let’s get you to bed,” Steve says, holding out a hand. Bucky takes it and moves to get up. Steve supports most of his weight, slipping his arm around Bucky’s waist. They make their way to Bucky’s room slowly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve is acutely aware of Bucky’s arm over his shoulders; Bucky’s hand strokes the nape of his neck. It sends a shiver down Steve’s spine, but he ignores it. Even if Bucky accidentally admitted he might have feelings for Steve, Steve is not going to act on them-- especially when Bucky is too drunk to stand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re warm,” Bucky mumbles. They get to the doorway of Bucky’s room and Bucky stumbles. Steve moves to catch him, both arms going around his back. Bucky buries his face in Steve’s neck, his lips press against the skin, sending sparks to Steve’s groin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come on,” Steve says gently. “You’re okay.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I‘m more than okay,” Bucky says. His voice is deep and low. He plants his feet, enough that he feels confident he won’t fall over, and leans back to look at Steve.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Through the haze, Bucky thinks he finally understands what people mean when they say eyes are the window to the soul. Looking into Steve’s eyes like this, even in the dark, Bucky has never felt more exposed. He lets his eyes travel down to Steve’s lips. He memorizes their shape, imagining what they’d feel like against his own. Bucky unconsciously parts his lips and leans in. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve’s breath catches. He’s thought about this so many times. He wants so badly to lean forward and meet Bucky’s mouth with his. He wished for it on his birthday, and he’s wished for it everyday since. Everything in him burns with the desire to close that little remaining space, but the smell of whiskey snaps him back to reality. He can’t take advantage of Bucky, not when he’s like this-- not when he might not remember.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bucky,” Steve says. The words startle Bucky so much he flinches. “We can’t.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky’s chest feels like it’s shrinking. He’s sure his lungs will pop from the pressure. He nods numbly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay.” Bucky can hear himself, but he is very far away. He knows his body is there, but his mind is not. He backs away from Steve. His brain is buzzing, his skin hot, cheeks flushed, and he stumbles backwards into his room. The last thing he remembers is hitting the pillow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When morning comes, Bucky’s eyes flutter open and he stretches easily. One of the biggest benefits of the serum? No hangovers. He could use some water though; that whiskey left a horrible taste in his mouth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The phantom taste of whiskey brings with it a flood of memories, and Bucky remembers everything. He called Steve. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>told</span>
  </em>
  <span> Steve. He tried to </span>
  <em>
    <span>kiss</span>
  </em>
  <span> Steve. Steve who… rejected him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh my god</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Bucky pulls the pillow over his face and presses down. Maybe he can suffocate himself and not have to deal with this.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The embarrassment pales in comparison to the hole sitting in Bucky’s chest where his heart should be because Steve actually said no. Well, to be more specific he said </span>
  <em>
    <span>we can’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The words are a red hot brand on the inside of Bucky’s eyelids. </span>
  <em>
    <span>We can’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Bucky feels his stomach roll and thinks he may throw up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s one thing to tell yourself something, to swear it’s true for your own sake. Bucky knew he wasn’t good enough for Steve. After everything he’d done? Everyone he hurt? He believed as much, but to have it confirmed was the final blow. The knockout punch. Bucky couldn’t catch his breath no matter how fast he sucked in air.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The knock on his door makes him flinch. He stays very still, hoping Steve will take the hint from his silence. Much to his horror, the door opens anyway and Steve tiptoes in. Bucky wants to play dead, to be dead even, but his chest is rising and falling too fast to fake being asleep.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Morning,” Steve says. He has a glass of water in his hands which he offers to Bucky. Bucky nods and takes the glass. He sips it, savors the coolness.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Bucky says but his voice comes out strained. He clears his throat and takes another sip. Averting his eyes, Bucky doesn’t see Steve sit on the bed, but he feels it. The bed dips slightly under Steve’s weight.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How are you feeling?” Steve asks. Bucky swallows the truth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine,” he lies. He can feel Steve staring at him, itching for the eye contact that Bucky’s afraid to give.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bucky,” Steve says knowingly. If there was ever a time Bucky wished the earth would open up and swallow him, it was right fucking now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Steve,” he says gravely. He doesn’t know what to say. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not talk about it.” Bucky begins to mentally catalog everything in the apartment that’s his. He’ll have to start packing as soon as this nightmare of a conversation is over.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve shifts on the bed and raises his eyebrows. Bucky lays back down, eyes closed towards the ceiling.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh okay, so I shouldn’t bring up the fact that you tried to kiss me last night,” Steve says smirking. Bucky’s eyes stay shut and he flinches at the words; surely this is his penance. He deserves this.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Steve, please.” Bucky’s voice comes out as a pained whisper.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And since we aren’t going to talk about it, I won’t have to tell you that I almost let you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The words drop into Bucky’s lap. He goes impossibly still, eyes still shut, while his mind tries to process what Steve said. He can’t be serious, Bucky thinks. This has to be part of a long joke Steve has planned that he’ll top off with a polite but serious request for Bucky to move out. Steve continues.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know you’re right. It’s probably for the best that we aren’t going to talk about it, so I never have to admit how hard it was to say no-- how badly I wanted to kiss you too,” Steve says. He’s smiling now. At that, Bucky opens his eyes and looks at Steve.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What are you talking about?” Bucky narrows his eyes. He sits up, bringing himself to Steve’s eye level. They are close enough to touch, but Bucky stays very still.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s like he is still drunk and dreaming. That’s the only explanation. That is the only way this makes sense, where someone like Steve would admit something like this to Bucky.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I thought we weren’t talking,” Steve says quizzically. His fake confusion clouds his face. Bucky thinks he’s going to wake up any second and this will all have been the most bizarre, cruel dream.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But you said no,” Bucky says. It's barely above a whisper. The confusion on Bucky’s face must finally register to Steve because his expression slips into something more gentle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That wasn’t going to be our first kiss, Bucky,” Steve says with a gentle laugh. “You could barely stand.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky doesn’t have time to process that because Steve leans in, one hand going to Bucky’s neck, and kisses him. When their lips meet, everything else disappears. Bucky can’t remember a single thing that exists except the feeling of Steve’s lips on his. His hands reflexively go to Steve and grip his shirt. He fists the material, desperate to pull Steve closer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His mouth moves against Steves with a startling hunger. To finally feel the softness of Steve’s lips-- Bucky is dizzy with it. It’s so familiar, it’s almost impossible that this is the first time he’s been able to do this. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve’s hands frame his face, thumb moving gently across his jaw. Bucky nearly whines when Steve starts to pull back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That,” Steve says breathlessly, “is a real first kiss.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky’s eyes are so wide, his expression so shocked, that Steve is worried for a moment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Was that okay?” Steve’s hand rests on Bucky’s leg. Bucky’s nod is what Steve wanted to see until his face pinches in thought.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Steve,” Bucky’s voice is suddenly very serious. “Are you sure?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Am I sure about what?” Steve asks, confused.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“About this,” Bucky motions between them. “About me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve doesn’t mean to laugh at Bucky, but how does he even begin to explain himself. How does he explain the magnetic pull he feels towards Bucky that keeps him tethered to him? Are there even words to describe the way he feels when Bucky smiles at something he’s said?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m very sure,” Steve says sincerely. He smiles and reaches to touch Bucky’s cheek.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He reflexively leans into Steve’s touch. He wants to shut up and take this miracle for what it is, but he can’t ignore the nagging monster that is his past. “But the things I’ve done,” Bucky says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They don’t define you.” Steve takes Bucky’s hand and kisses his knuckles. “For every painful memory, we’ll make a new one-- a good one, until there’s too many good to remember the bad.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky thinks about all of the glimpses into his childhood that he’s unlocked just by moving in with Steve. Remembering their favorite places and traditions was the only thing keeping Bucky grounded. When the realization hits, it hits all at once.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Every positive memory has one thing in common.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Steve,” Bucky says as he looks at Steve.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Kiss me again.” Steve’s eyes light up, and Bucky thinks if he can keep being the reason for that, maybe he’ll be okay.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their second kiss is nothing like the first one. It lacks all of the caution and anticipation. In their place is a ferocity that ignites something in them. Bucky’s hands can’t get into Steve’s hair fast enough. Steve’s mouth moves desperately, tongue flicking out to tease open Bucky’s mouth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The slide of Steve’s tongue against his makes Bucky’s dick twitch. He suddenly wants to feel all of him. He wants those familiar tiny flames to spark at every junction where his and Steve’s skin touch. Bucky leans forward, encouraging Steve to lay down. When Steve relaxes into the mattress, Bucky wastes no time slotting his body up against him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky kisses Steve with an intensity only a century of wanting can cause. He lets his tongue and hands explore Steve while he unconsciously grinds into him. Steve’s hands fist the hair at the nape of Bucky’s neck, one of his legs going to wrap around him to drag him closer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve can feel Bucky’s dick through the sweats and it makes his mouth water. Steve begins to lift Bucky’s shirt up. The material rides up Bucky’s back a few inches before Bucky breaks the kiss to rip it over his head. Resting on his knees, Bucky looks down at Steve. Steve can barely contain the noise he makes at seeing Bucky like that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky mistakes his expression for doubt and looks down at the jagged line where skin meets metal. The real and the monster.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can put it back on,” Bucky says. Steve grabs his wrist when he moves to reach for the shirt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t,” Steve says and he lifts a finger to trace the line. He pulls his own shirt off before pulling Bucky down. The heat of their bodies makes Bucky moan into Steve’s mouth as soon as they reconnect. Bucky pulls at Steve’s lip with his teeth, his hand trailing sparks down Steve’s ribs. Having Steve like this is making Bucky’s head swim. He can barely focus on anything but getting impossibly closer to Steve.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve’s body responds immediately. His dick, now hard and heavy, strains against his pants. The little bit of friction between Bucky and him is not enough. Steve bucks up in frustration, and Bucky nearly bites through his lip.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” Bucky moans as he grinds down harder. Steve flips them over, relishing in Bucky’s gasp as he grinds into him from above. Steve exhales hotly, sinks his teeth into the flesh of Bucky’s shoulder as his hips work.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve desperately wants to savor this, but every nerve in his body is on fire. He can’t slow himself down, and from the grip of Bucky’s hand on his ass, Bucky can’t either.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I want to feel you,” Bucky says against Steve’s mouth. He palms Steve through his sweats. Steve grinds down instinctively. Bucky nudges at the waistband of Steve’s pants, imploring him to push them down. When Steve does, Bucky finally gets his hand on him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck.” Steve’s eyes roll back as he thrusts into Bucky’s fist. The arousal spikes in his gut just from watching Steve unravel. Steve’s breath is uneven and loud as he thrusts harder into Bucky’s hand. With his free hand, Bucky coaxes Steve’s mouth back to his.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come on, I’ve got you,” Bucky says before kissing him. He can tell by Steve’s erratic thrusting that he has to be close. Bucky isn’t even worried about his own dick, hard and leaking in his pants. He can only focus on the sight and sound of Steve coming apart in his hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m close,” Steve says, hips snapping forward. The wet slide of Steve in his palm punctuated by Steve’s moaning is almost enough to tip Bucky over the edge. “Bucky, shit.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve comes hard. His fingers grip Bucky’s shoulders as he thrusts inconsistently, riding out this high. Bucky’s free arm holds Steve in place, lightly rubbing his back. As Steve trembles through the aftershock, he starts to slide down Bucky’s body. He sucks marks along Bucky’s abs, nosing at the waistband of his pants.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky’s fists grip the sheet as Steve pulls his pants down, his dick inches from Steve’s face. Steve looks up at Bucky, eyes lidded, lips parted, and leans in. Bucky moans the second Steve’s mouth touches his cock.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve’s mouth closes around Bucky and he sucks gently. The drag of his lips along Bucky’s shaft makes Bucky’s vision blur. Instinctively Bucky thrusts up. Steve gags on his dick.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shit, I’m sorry,” Bucky says quickly. Steve doesn’t answer, just puts Bucky’s hand in his hair and encourages him. When Bucky realizes what Steve is doing, he throws his head back and moans. Using his hand on the back of Steve’s head, Bucky pushes lightly on Steve’s head, forcing him to take more of Bucky’s dick in his mouth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve gags and moans, the vibrations shooting straight down Bucky’s cock. Bucky writhes beneath him, his head straining against the bed as he gets lost in the wet heat that is Steve’s mouth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, don’t stop.” Bucky can barely register that it’s his voice that’s encouraging Steve. Steve pulls back slightly to swirl his tongue around the head of Bucky’s dick. He sucks gently, flicking his tongue over the slit before swallowing him again. The quickness of his movements picks up and Bucky can’t breathe. His hips stutter a few thrusts, dick nudging Steve’s throat. The fire in his belly flames up, that slow building now barrelling towards the finish.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve’s hands grip along Bucky’s v-line, his thumbs rubbing the skin lightly. It’s all the encouragement Bucky needs. One more look at Steve’s bobbing head and Bucky is spilling into his mouth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve sucks Bucky through his climax while Bucky fists Steve’s hair. The sensitivity makes Bucky flinch when Steve finally pulls off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Holy shit,” Steve says, dropping next to Bucky. Bucky reaches for him, pulls him against his chest. Their breathing evens out as they lay together.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s an understatement,” Bucky says and laughs. His fingers rub the skin of Steve’s shoulder, tracing patterns where his neck and shoulder meet. Steve reaches a finger up once again to trace the jagged scar that connects Bucky’s flesh and the metal of his arm. He can feel Bucky stiffen, but the tension eases as Steve keeps tracing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He lightly drags his finger down Bucky’s entire arm, feeling the ridges of every metal groove, before working his way back up and feeling the scarred skin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re more than that, you know,” Steve says and taps lightly on the scar. “It’s a part of you, but only a part. You are everything else.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve moves his hand to rest over Bucky’s heart. He taps his finger on Bucky’s chest to remind him of the part of him that outweighs a metal arm and a dark past.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky tightens his arm around Steve and Steve looks up at him. His smile is gentle and Bucky kisses him. He hopes the kiss says everything he’s afraid to. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Thank you. I need you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve cups Bucky’s jaw and kisses him back. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m here. I need you too</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The next few weeks go by in a blur of sex and Bucky. Steve can’t get enough of him. It’s like the floodgates have been opened and every urge, every impulse is real for the taking. They explore more of each other, relishing in the closeness. Steve can’t believe he’s gone this long without this side of Bucky. He can feel himself slipping into uncharted territory, but he can’t stop. He wants to be careful, to slow down and figure out what he’s feeling.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This proves nearly impossible the next night as Bucky takes his time opening Steve up. He works his fingers in excruciatingly slow. Steve itches to fuck himself back on them, but Bucky’s hand presses into his back and holds him against the bed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Quit teasing me and get on with it,” Steve grits out. His dick nudges against the bed, hard and sensitive.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Stop complaining,” Bucky says as he pushes back in with more fingers. The stretch and burn makes Steve bite down on his own arm. By now, Bucky has figured out exactly what Steve needs, what Steve wants before being fucked, and he’s perfecting it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once Bucky has pushed Steve to his limit, crooking his fingers and making Steve jolt forward, he nudges him to flip over.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know I like to look at you,” Bucky says. He kisses Steve urgently, pulling his face in and licking into his mouth. Steve moans into the kiss, the anticipation of what comes next makes him shiver. Bucky breaks the kiss to suck marks into Steve’s neck as he hovers on top of him. Steve reaches blindly for Bucky, taking him in his hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky trails gentle bites down Steve’s neck and chest while Steve works him over. Bucky relishes in this foreplay. He can feel the intensity building in him with every pump of Steve’s hand. Steve, who whines impatiently when Bucky kisses him slow and dirty, bucks his hips up in search of relief. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Need you to fuck me,” Steve’s impatience comes out in a groan as he uses both hands now to tug on Bucky’s hair. Bucky thrusts a few times, making sure his dick catches on Steve’s, before moving to pin Steve’s arms above his head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ready?” Bucky asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Been ready,” Steve says. He can barely concentrate on anything but his desire. The need to feel Bucky is engulfing him and he cries out when Bucky finally pushes in. “Oh, fuck!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky pushes in slow, anchoring his hold on Steve’s wrists. Bucky thinks back to their first time and how embarrassingly fast he came. He couldn’t stop himself from reacting to the tightness and reality that he was finally fucking Steve.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His resolve is a little better, but Steve makes that hard to maintain when he strains to fuck himself back on Bucky.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Steve,” Bucky warns. His voice is low and stern. It makes Steve’s dick twitch, but he stops. Bucky picks up the pace gradually. He finds a comfortable rhythm and starts to get lost in it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck yes, yes, please, more.” Steve’s pleads are music to Bucky’s ears. He fucks him harder, letting himself lose some of the control he worked so hard to gain. Bucky snaps his hips, the sound of their bodies echoing behind Steve’s moans.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky lets go of Steve’s wrists, dropping down to lean on his own elbows as he fucks into him. Steve’s arms wrap under his arms to pull him closer, eyes rolling back. His nails dig into Bucky’s back, dragging his fingers down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck you’re so good,” Bucky finds the last bit of strength and control he has to slow his hips. He deliberately drags himself out of Steve slowly until just the head of his cock is in him. Steve’s breathing is heavy and Bucky can feel him claw desperately at his back. “You’re so good, Steve.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please,” Steve kisses Bucky like his life depends on it. Bucky kisses Steve slow, licking into his mouth as he pushes back in. The pace is so slow, Steve thinks he might scream. The mixture of Bucky’s tongue in his mouth and the slow fill of his cock in his ass has Steve seeing stars. The white hot fire of his pleasure builds unbelievably quick. Steve starts to beg. “Please fuck me. Fuck me hard.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This is the first time Steve has begged this openly and Bucky almost comes right then. Feeling the build of his own orgasm, Bucky pushes back in hard and deep. He lets those slow, deep strokes build until he feels Steve clench around him. He can feel by the way Steve’s fingers dig into his back and his heels dig into his ass that he’s found the spot. Snapping his hips forward relentlessly, Bucky fucks Steve into the mattress.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve can’t form a single word, jaw clenched, eyes rolled back. Bucky fucks him, rests his forehead on Steve’s and drives into him. Every thrust of his hips brings another incoherent sound from Steve and Bucky starts to fall apart. He takes Steve’s dick in his hand and tugs him in time with his thrusts. Steve’s orgasm hits him like a train. Pleasure explodes inside of him and he’s coming hard.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, fuck, right there,” Bucky pants, kissing Steve and chasing his own release. It only takes one look at Steve to unravel Bucky completely. His hips lose their rhythm as he comes with a curse. Bucky can barely hold himself up as he rides out the remainder of his high.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Holding himself up on his forearms, Bucky relaxes against Steve. Their foreheads touch while they come down together. Steve kisses Bucky gently. They’ve gotten good at this part too-- kissing their thanks when words don’t seem to be enough. Steve brings his hands to Bucky’s face and holds him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He lets his fingers trace Bucky’s lips, his jaw, down his neck and to his shoulder. Steve feels it, that uncharted territory, the unspoken promise, he was afraid of. It flares up in his chest as he presses kisses to Bucky’s arm. He wanted to be careful, move slowly, so he wouldn’t risk ruining whatever this was, but Steve didn’t want to be careful. He didn’t want to move slowly. He just wanted Bucky. Forever.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I love you,” Steve says. Every inch of him presses against every inch of Bucky. He can feel Bucky’s heart beat. Steve kisses along the scarred, raised skin where Bucky meets metal. He doesn’t need to say it because the kisses do. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I love every part of you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve finally meets Bucky’s eyes and they look scared.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure?” Bucky brushes Steve’s jaw like he expects him to vanish. Steve rolls his eyes but smiles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“One of these days you’re going to get tired of asking me that,” Steve says. He kisses Bucky lightly on the lips, once on the nose. He presses a kiss to Bucky’s cheeks, one gentle kiss to each eyelid, and holds his face in his hands. “But I’ll never get tired of reminding you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky’s smile is soft as he curls up next to Steve. He lays his head on Steve’s chest and listens to his heart beat. He imagines it beating for him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I love you too, you know,” Bucky says. The rhythmic beating of Steve’s heart comforts Bucky as his fingers find Steve’s and intertwine. No matter how much damage and darkness is in his past, somehow Bucky trusts that Steve and him can get through it. They can get through anything because they’ll do it the way they always have-- together until the end of the line.</span>
</p>
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